david c. porter (read NTTN)

@davidcporter.net

802 Followers 255 Following

the worm does not die; their feet are of clay / writes http://gardenscenery.net / edits @keep-planning.net / buy NTTN: https://www.organ.fail/product/nttn/

screenshot of a single-page text called "Situation" by german author helmut heissenbüttel in the collection "Texts" translated by michael hamburger. the full piece is too long to transcribe here – below, instead, are the first a last paragraphs: Without memory standing in total darkness. The floor damp smooth slippery. When one bends forward one feels the coldness of the floor as of stone or steel. One can move ahead only slowly. When one moves ahead one feels that the floor consists of large irregular siabs separated by narrow but deep grooves. [...] At full length perhaps he will then be lying on the verge of the chasm his head extended into the void. He listens. And when he listens he will hear a noise far off that swells and fades out. But this noise will be full of attraction. Not so much that one wants to hurl oneself down. Yet so much that one is held fast there. And if perhaps [and in the extreme case] even at this point one has senselessly not given up the foolish hope that it will be light again one forgets it here. And the only thing one is likely to think is that it’s coming closer.
a still from the film Centuries of June (1955)
The late Instagram in its natural habitat.
robert morris standing in his "box for standing" !961), a simple coffin-like wood structure standing on its end, in the michael blackwell film "robert morris: retrospective"
A trickle of meltwater cascading down over dark sodden roots. A vertical band of deep browns and blacks, spotted with the rich ochre of old fallen leaves, hemmed in on both sides by the wet gray-white of the lingering snow and ice.
Mad Panic Coaster Peaceful water sounds. A dribble sucks out of the boy’s nose. Spinning beach ball. Angry hornet nest. Grandma’s kitchen. Glue trap. Beaten with the ugly stick. What a pity, dude. Cymbal crash. Shed full of sawdust. Stay completely fucking invisible. Our tacky spirits slip. Sunset hour at Hidden Cove. Black licorice. Crate key. Grabbed by robotic arms. Bound and tied in the trunk of the car. Cattle prod fantasy. Blinking up pink runny eyes. Chili cook-off. Public anxiety convulsions. A non-specific sense of loss. The jury waits outside. Plastic firefighter toy. Tropical beach vibes. “I wish I could just breathe underwater forever.” Cascade of cardboard. Formally requested, a scar just above the eye. Everything is constantly in motion but the terrain is so monotonous.
Territories of the Soul / On Intonation by Wolfgang Hilbig and Some Essays by Heinrich von Kliest, both translated by Matthew Spencer
A picture of a man in a firefighting uniform, axe slung over his shoulder. Beneath it, these words in a sans-serif font, kind of like a screenplay. The speaking is credited as "The Fireman": "Hang on a minute. I saw a spark in your eye. No, no, I'm quite sure of it. When you looked at me, there was a spark in your eye. I'm a fire control professional, so I know a spark when I see one. Now, I'm not trying to shame you. These things happen. But I do need you to understand that any kind of open flame is a serious matter. I once personally knew someone whose eyes were full of sparks. They were out of control. Everyone could see them. Now that person is at the bottom of a watery grave, and while you may find that ironic, it's also tragic. If you don't want a similar tragedy to befall you, I advise you to stay perfectly still and not do anything until the spark goes away. I also advise you to be more careful going forward. This is my professional advice. Goodbye."
The first paragraph of the "History" section of the Wikipedia article on vending machines: "The earliest known reference to a vending machine is in the work of Hero of Alexandria, an engineer and mathematician in first-century Roman Egypt. His machine accepted a coin and then dispensed wine[2] or holy water.[3] When the coin was deposited, it fell upon a pan attached to a lever. The lever opened a valve which let some water flow out. The pan continued to tilt with the weight of the coin until it fell off, at which point a counterweight snapped the lever up and turned off the valve."
Mike Crumplar on Garden Scenery: Remember when Dimes Square was all the rage? Around that time, writer Mike Crumplar made his name with Substack’s Crumpstack, a newsletter about the tenuous scene’s evolving nightlife and, when the lights dimmed in the square, his literary musings on the culture at large. “David C. Porter’s Garden Scenery is for real heads. It’s mainly twice-monthly flash fiction with some poetry, criticism, and other newsletter ephemera thrown in. Porter’s fiction has a sort of eerie, understated absurdism that reminds me of Harold Pinter and ‘comedy of menace.’ It’s edgy in a sophisticated way that is sadly rare these days. And I think I trust his opinions on cinema more than those of anyone else online.”
A photograph of my poetry chapbook "The Numb Angel" sitting on a decomposing carpet outside, propped up against a root. The book is closed, showing the front cover. The cover is divided vertically into white and black portions, white on the left and black on the right, with the black portion being moderately but visibly larger than the white portion. My name and the chapbook title are written in the upper left, within the white portion. My name is above the chapbook title, in smaller text and a different font. The lower middle of the cover is dominated by a blotchy, low-quality reproduction of Nicolas Poussin's painting L'Inspiration du poète (c. 1629/30). This image does not, however, reach to the edges of the cover, but rather floats in the middle.
Dangerous Man holding a Deadly Weapon to his Hostage's head, all labeled accordingly.
Composition Nr. 1 (for Trumpet) The performer places a trumpet in a crook in the branches of an olive tree, such that the bell faces towards the city below. The trumpet is played by the wind passing through it. The performer may listen to the sound or not. The performance of the composition ends when the performer removes the trumpet from the olive tree. It does not end if someone other than the performer removes the trumpet from the olive tree.
a picture of Special Silencer's front cover. in the top center is the author name (David C. Porter) and the title (Special Silencer), in larger letters, just beneath it. in the lower center is an ambiguous photograph. the rest of the cover is white, except for a black stripe wrapping around the spine. the book sits on a rug with an elaborate floral design. the room looks dark, with the book being illuminated by the camera's flash.
gazing upon her creation
the letterboxd bio for filmmaker Koji Shiraishi. as follows: "Koji Shiraishi (白石 晃士 Shiraishi Kōji) was born and raised in Fukuoka, Japan. After graduating from Kyushu Sangyo University with a degree in film making, he went on to work as an assistant director on such films as Gakuryū Ishii's August in the Water and Shinobu Yaguchi's WATER BOYS. "He cites Gakuryū Ishii as his favorite Japanese director, and Ishii's 1980 Crazy Thunder Road as his favorite film. Other directors he admires include John Carpenter, Brian De Palma, Abbas Kiarostami, and Sam Raimi, and films he enjoy include the original Dawn of the Dead (1978), The Evil Dead (1981), Evil Dead 2: Dead by Dawn (1987), The Thing (1982), and The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974)"
bada shanren, "landscape in the style of ni zan" (detail)
snake girl for halloween
the noble Turkey Vulture
he went to dracula for help
the book of spells and incantations
anonymous 4chan post from July 8th 2011 complaining about how, because "'beta' and 'virgin' weren't strong enough" for them, now "incel" (whatever that's supposed to mean) is going to be "/tv/'s word of the summer"
screenshot of youtube video about a car "not even billionaires can get their hands on"
(Playback)
theyre back
my abode
Persons: A girl Her father Her mother's ghost The Inspection Demon of the Underworld
a bunch of old books
photo of a page from a book with "NOW ISN'T THIS A TREAT ! SOMEONE W/ THE FLESH STILL ON THEIR BONES" printed on it
You Can Lose Everything You Have In One Second
framegrab from Shakespearian Spinach (1940) depicting stage curtain emblazoned with the words "WE DO ASBESTOS WE CAN"
screenshot of me getting an error message back trying to respond to bile with "lol site breaking for you too?"
the classic 2011 album "Holy Revolution" by Future
Dead, forgotten by all.
a sky full of clouds and contrails, dense and layered and textured like unspun wool, lit harshly by the setting sun
MEDIA Home Entertainment Inc
squares cut out of white bread filled with hotdog slices with egg yolks being poured into them. caption: "would you eat this? #shorts" 22M views
separate bluesky feeds for "published" and "self-published" "AO3 Reylo authors"
HE KILLS ANYONE WHO LOOK AT HIM ...
bourgeois reporter: "And what do you think of death?"
"Forever and ever."
two young russian people, a boy and a girl, sitting on a log in a forest at sunset, in subtitles the girl asks: "What is the sunset for you?"
a stack of ten copies of my book
donut mart: DOUBTS ENTOMB US
Zwerg Nase
What Kids See